Travel

Wild Campervanning in New Zealand

My Wildest Travel Story

I am currently back in one of my favorite countries, New Zealand. I have traveled here several times before and also lived here for two years.

But my first journey to Aotearoa was probably the most memorable one.

My story may not be as wild and scary as some of those I have read here, but it has a fun, wild element so I thought I would share it anyway.

I was in my early 30s and the trip was taken with my daughters aged 11 and 6 years and a partner (ex, he was not the father to my girls, it has some bearing as he did not fully understand some intricacies of parenting).

He was also the adventurous type.

Walking. Cycling. Climbing. Hiking. You name it he was all for it.

The rest of us — not so much.

I think he was sent to uncover the side of adventure buried inside of us and to take a risk sometimes. If it was not for him, my daughters and I would never have tried rock climbing, skiing, and even wild camping.

Wild camping, is where our story begins.

We took a campervan from Auckland and traveled towards Northland taking in Ninety Mile Beach. The thrill of driving on the beach which is quicksand is the ultimate aim of adventure seekers, with the added challenge of not getting stuck. I’m glad to report that even he did not chance driving on it.

In the end, we negotiated to take a tour, which had to look adventurous before he would even agree to it. He hated the idea of paying for things, let alone paying for something that is in the open and freely available. But that is not even the wild part of this story.

Let me tell you about the rest of our camper van experience, bearing in mind this was the first time my daughters and I had ever taken a trip in a campervan. Did I also mention that we had never been camping until then?

It was quite an adventure and stretched these city dwellers way out of their comfort zones. To ease us into the trip, he agreed for us to stay at campsites with electrical hookups, showers, and toilet blocks. Basic facilities that you would expect at a campsite.

I was a planner (still am) lists of campsites that we could stay at. I had tracked every aspect of our journey with estimates of when and where we could arrive and the closest campsites at that point. Plotting out two or three possibilities of campsites depending on how far we got with the drive each day.

But all this was too clinical for the ex, let’s call him Stefan, for ease.

There were two things Stefan did not like. One was all the damn planning I was doing. (Huge sigh). And the second was paying for any facilities and activities. This included parking the campervan at ‘sterile campsites’, as he called them. He chaffed at the teeth each time I handed over the cash to book a spot to park the campervan for the night.

My argument was that the girls needed to be close to basic facilities like hmm let’s see a working toilet. The one in the camper let’s be honest would not suffice for all uses with 4 of us using it.

Eventually worn down by his constant moaning about my incessant planning and rising costs of the trip, coupled with his tales about the wonders of wild camping, I gave in and agreed that we would spend one night out in the wild. Wild Camping. He said, it would be an experience that my girls would never forget about their trip to New Zealand, and he was right in the end, this is the thing they do remember.

Planning for Wild Camping

The plan was simple. He planned to just drive till nightfall, then find the nearest spot, stop, and camp. He wanted no planning at all! He wanted to show us how real wild campers do it.

He eventually agreed with persuasion to stop at a national park, as it was basic but remote, and I was opposed to stopping just anywhere on the highway overnight.

How It Unfolds

I wish I could tell you exactly where we camped, I have been trying to recall the exact spot but my memory escapes me, as it is over 20 years ago now. I have tried to hunt down my journals to no prevail so my sketchy memory will just have to do. It was on the North Island in New Zealand that much I do recall. Sorry, that’s all I got.

We arrived at the national park just before nightfall. We drove and drove on little windy roads. Till eventually, we arrived at what he said was the perfect campsite. (Not in my opinion anyway, but that was simply a matter of view).

He worked out the perfect place to position the campervan with the ultimate view, which was probably the highlight of the trip.

He then proceeded to show us the facilities. Or should I say lack of facilities?

A long drop toilet. That was it.

When this feature was opened up, it was covered in an army of flies. Did I mention the gut-churning stench that punched at our noses? Not a jab but a full-blown punch that caused us to fall back looking for instant cover. I can recall my city-born daughters, screaming and running away in horror.

They both firmly declared that they were not using that. Never, ever!! And I can’t say I blamed them either. I too was not overly impressed with the facilities.

After recovering from the trauma of open pit toilets, Stefan decided to settle us down to serve up more delights by a wild campfire.

I have to admit that sitting around the wild campfire was rather soothing to the soul. That was until the sandflies decided to join us at dusk. Sandflies pierce the skin with a slicing tooth, the bites are painful and itchy. It did not take long before the campfire was abandoned, and we took refuge in the campervan.

As the night drew in, the evening became colder. It was August and winter in New Zealand. With no electrical hook up we did not want to chance to turn on the heating and drain the battery. Covered in blankets and chattering at the teeth Stefan tried to draw us in with a card game of Cheat. At that stage, we all only felt cheated of a night of our usual comforts.

We agreed to call it a night. Frozen to our bones with all this wild camping, itching and trying to hold back from normal excretions till we could, we jumped into our campervan beds to settle in for a night of listening to the wild sounds of the night. This Stefan said was the best part of wild camping. Listening to the sounds of animals, in the stillness of the night.

Well, we soon heard the sounds of animals, but not quite those that we had expected. It seemed that this remote little spot was not so remote after all. It became invaded by several campers who seemed to use this as a late-night rave.

They parked up all around us. Then partied till the early hours of the night. Music blaring, reverberating through our campervan.

Honestly, you would have laughed if you had been there and could see into our campervan, as Stefan and I exchanged looks, his saying “don’t even say it” and mine with the “told you so satisfaction”.

So much for wild camping. The peace. Quiet. And remoteness.

That it was not indeed!

Needless to say, for the remainder of the journey, we paid for ‘sterile campsites’, and I happily continued to plot out the rest of the journey.

© Bernie Pullen, All Rights Reserved.

This story was in response to this month’s Travel Writers Challenge.

I’d like to share Adrienne Beaumont’s story in Globetrotters, about her Workaway experience, it just keeps on giving.

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